


Reconciliation

by popfly



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Blogathon 2005, Cancer, Cancer Arc, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-06
Updated: 2005-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian had a hard time coming to terms with being "sick".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for reeface for Blogathon 2005.

It took Brian a solid two weeks to reconcile his old image of his self - indestructible Brian Kinney, top dog of Liberty Avenue, sex god, etc., etc. - with his new image of his self - post-op, fried from radiation, constantly sick and tired and weak and with an angry red wound healing on his pelvis.

During those two weeks he railed against his body, feeling not only the constant nausea and fatigue in his muscles, but the frustration too. It was there simmering under his skin, sending his blood in a hot rush through his veins. If he had the energy he'd punch his fist through a wall, snarl at everyone who dared cross his path, and stomp around in one of his famous snits. As it was all he could do was lay still with his cheek resting on the cold porcelain of toilet seats in the loft, the diner, the hospital, the office, totally unable to even work up a sneer.

If he was the crying type, he wouldn't have stopped from the moment he walked out of the hospital post surgery. Fuck that, he'd have been a soggy, dripping mess from the moment he stepped foot in the hospital pre-surgery.

After he resigned himself to being a man with cancer - and a prosthetic ball, which still felt odd to him when he soaped it in the shower - his frustration muted into a dull complacency, and he accepted his fragile constitution and lack of stamina with a grim, flat sense of inevitability.

He even stopped sniping at Justin when he tried to help - or did help, actually, since trying to tell Justin not to do something he wanted to do was quite like trying to stop a bullet train with your bare hands - and just let him make him bowl after bowl of chicken soup and mug after mug of what was supposed to be a soothing tea. He didn't growl when Justin stayed in the bathroom with him and rubbed his neck while he vomited the soup and tea back up. He didn't even raise an eyebrow when Justin rinsed out a bucket and placed it in front of the nightstand on Brian's side of the bed.

Brian knew that getting angry with Justin and throwing him out had been irrational and stupid. At the time it had felt like the only thing he could do. It was certainly the only thing he'd had control over at the time. Now he was just glad that Justin came back, told him off, and force fed him soup. Even if he did throw it back up two hours later.

Because Brian didn't know how he would've made it if it weren't for Justin.


End file.
